


Fake Fiances: the Hannigram Edition

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas Party, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Season 1, Ugly Sweaters, fanfic tropes, mostly canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will invites Hannibal to pose as his fiance at an "Ugly Sweater" Christmas party. It's completely logical and not at all outlandish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fake Fiances: the Hannigram Edition

Will decided the best way to broach the subject was without preamble, so he flung open the door to Hannibal’s office and blurted out the news. “I accidentally got us invited to a Christmas party and told the hosts you’re my fiance.”

Hannibal decided the best way to proceed was to allow Will to fill the silence with increasingly awkward explanations, so he merely raised his brows and waited.

“You see,” Will began, “I shop at this little grocery store on the way home once or twice a week, real mom-and-pop kind of place, you know? And the mom of the operation, Alice, is always trying to set me up with her daughter. Why? Who knows? I promise you I am NOT inviting of these sorts of intrusions. I’m not inviting of anything! Last night, I blurted out that I was engaged to be married–to a man. Instead of taking a hint, she asked me about you–him. I said you–he was a doctor I met at work and before I knew it, she was inviting us to her Christmas party and I was accepting, and do you know the worst part? Do you know the absolute WORST part of it?”

Hannibal raised his brows further.

“It has a THEME,” Will sighed loudly. “The party has a theme! An ‘ugly sweater’ theme! Okay, no, the worst part is that I lied to a nosy but nice old lady that I’m engaged to my friend and psychiatrist. Or maybe the worst part is that I accepted on your behalf. There’s a veritable smorgasbord of options for ‘worst’ – take your pick!“

Hannibal folded his hands on top of his desk. "What time should I pick you up?”

* * *

Hannibal showed up on Will's doorstep at seven o'clock, sharp. He'd almost arrived early but thought it best not to appear too eager, and so drove under the speed limit half the way there. He called up a pleasant (but again, not too eager) smile and rapped lightly on the windowpane. The dogs all barked until their master gently shushed them.

Hannibal's smile faltered when Will opened the door. "Your sweater," he started. "It's not... ugly."

 

  


 

 It was a hardy wool garment in soft browns and ivory, depicting two stags facing each other. The shawl collar was left open to show the denim shirt underneath.

"Oh," Will said, looking down at himself as if for the first time. "It's the closest thing I had without buying anything new. It seemed like it'd be a waste of money."

"Yes, of course," Hannibal said, clearing his throat lightly.

Will's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, did you--?"

In answer to the partially asked question, Hannibal unbuttoned his overcoat to show the vest underneath.

 

 

Will gasped, then choked on a sudden burst of laughter. The words "EAT ME" spread across a partially devoured gingerbread man. It looked all the more ridiculous for being worn atop one of Hannibal's characteristic dress shirts and patterned silk ties.

"The sales clerk assured me it was the ugliest sweater they had," Hannibal said. 

Before he could stop himself, Will reached out and touched the lettering. "That... is... _amazingly_ ugly,” he said. “In other words, it’s perfect."

"There's a button somewhere inside that, if pushed just so, causes the wording to light up," Hannibal said, "but I haven't been able to get it to work."

"Well, the night is young," Will said, laughing all over again. “Maybe we’ll figure it out somehow."

 

* * *

 

Alice and Bob were hosting the party at their store, as they had every year since they'd moved to the area as honeymooners. When Hannibal and Will arrived, the party was already well underway, with attendees packing the aisles and milling around a well-stocked buffet table.

"Thank you for picking me up, by the way," Will said as they made their way from the car. "We could have just met here."

"Nonsense," Hannibal said. "As fiances, I would think we’d show up together. Tell me, Will," he said, sounding suddenly serious. "Am I the jealous type?"

Will stopped in the middle of the parking lot, blinking. "Huh?"

"Based on what you've told your would-be matchmaker," Hannibal said, "would I be the type to keep my hand on you all night, quick to steer you away from drunkenly flirtatious party-goers?"

Will laughed softly as he pictured such a situation. "I've only told them the truth, more or less," Will said. "Just... be yourself."

"Myself, but engaged to you," Hannibal amended.

"Exactly," Will said. "And anyway, you don't need to be the jealous type to touch me."

Hannibal caught the flush that sprang to Will's cheeks, rosy red even in the darkness. He took it as an invitation to drop his hand--very gently--to the small of Will's back, and just for a few moments, as  an experimental. Will cast a quick smile at him, then fumbled for his glasses and shoved them onto his face.

  

* * *

 

Alice greeted them as soon as they walked through the door. "Mr. Graham, I'm so glad you could make it!" She gave Will's hands a squeeze before turning her attention to Hannibal. "And this must be your handsome fiance, Doctor... don't tell me, I remember it starts with an L... Doctor Lester!"

"Doctor Lecter," Will said. "Hannibal, this is Alice Johnson."

Hannibal shook her hand, all smiles. "So, my dear Will told you I was handsome?"

"Oh, of course," she giggled, her bright blue eyes twinkling brighter than the lights on Hannibal's sweater vest. "He said you were tall and handsome-- _very_ handsome, if I recall."

Will's cheeks were approaching an almost dangerous shade of maroon by now. "Just trying to paint a picture," he mumbled.

"I _knew_ he was only after me for my looks," Hannibal said to Alice, all conspiratorial winks and nudges.

Positioning herself between them, Alice looped a hand through each of their crooked arms and took them on a tour of the store, introducing them around. Will was fairly certain some of these people were his neighbors, who would probably be surprised to learn the local hermit was engaged to be married. That is, if they thought of him at all, which they probably didn't, Will hoped.

"Of course you know Bob," Alice said, leading them to the cheese counter where her husband had set up a keyboard and was playing Christmas songs. He was wearing a light-up sweater like Hannibal's, although his featured Santa's reindeer. He didn't stop playing, but gave Will and Hannibal a quick thumb's up and a wink. "I think Bob approves of your fiance, Mr. Graham. We're very open-minded for our generation, you know!"

 

* * *

 

Eventually, they were left alone when Alice left to greet some late arrivals to the party. By then, Will had downed four cups of bourbon eggnog and was starting to feel a little more relaxed. Maybe this party wasn't the _worst_ idea he'd ever had, after all.

"So, you're Will," someone said behind them. Will turned to see a woman about his age, wearing her auburn hair in thick braid over her shoulder. She looked to Hannibal and extended her hand. "And _you_ must be the man who stole away my future husband."

"Uh," was all Will managed to say.

Hannibal didn't miss a beat. "You must be the delightful Alice's daughter," he said, briefly taking her hand. "You have your mother's beautiful eyes."

"Oh, well, I guess I can't be too mad, as charming as you are," she said. "I'm Carrie," she added, reaching for Will's hand to shake even though he was still too baffled to offer it.

"Pleased to meet you," he got out.

"Does your mother often try to set you up with potential suitors?" Hannibal asked.

"It turns out she's the keeper of the biological clock I wasn’t even aware I had," Carrie said. "It dinged the instant I turned 35 and she's been relentless ever since."

Will mostly listened to them chatting, adding in polite nods and sounds of interest when needed. It wasn't that she was dull--far from it, actually. It turned out she trained rescued horses for an animal sanctuary about two hours north of Baltimore. She was smart and charming and pretty, too, he thought, noticing the faintest hint of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

When Carrie excused herself to sing a duet with her dad, Hannibal leaned in to Will. "She seems quite your type," he said.

"I have a type?" Will asked.

"A woman, for starters," Hannibal whispered. "Then there's her love of rescued animals. I noticed a few dog hairs on the sleeve of her sweater, as well. I'm sure you could explain our ruse to her and she'd find it endearing."

Will blinked up at Hannibal. "Explain our ruse?" He turned that over in his mind. That bourbon seemed to be working on him more than he'd expected. His thoughts felt lazy and molten. "You mean confess I'm not actually engaged to you? Why would I do that?"

"So you could invite her on a date," Hannibal said. "A _real_ date."

Will laughed. "Oh! Oh. Yeah, I guess I could..." He trailed off, considering the possibility. Somehow, the thought simply gained no traction. She was attractive, single, had things in common with him, and yet... Will finally shrugged. "I don't think I really have time for all that, you know, between the teaching and Jack's cases."

Hannibal made a thoughtful noise, but pushed no further.

 

* * *

 

"So how did you two meet?" someone was asking them. Will thought the guy's name might be Paul. He might be a lawnmower salesman, but that conversation was at least one cup of eggnog ago.

"At work," Will said. "We just hit it off, I guess."

"Now, that's not quite true," Hannibal tutted him. "Will here couldn't abide me. He thought I was insufferably pushy and overstepped the bounds of professional courtesy."

"He psychoanalyzed me," Will said.

"For my part, I was taken with him at once," Hannibal said. "I knew he was someone who could understand me, and help me understand the world on a deeper level."

"Plus, he's one helluva cutie," Paul's date said, sloshing her drink all over him.

"Yes, there is that," Hannibal said.

Will blinked, blushing furiously. He became aware that Hannibal was lightly rubbing the back of his arm just beneath his shoulder and found himself leaning into it.

"We're thinking of adopting a daughter," he heard Hannibal saying. His attention swam back into focus. "I've already started teaching her to cook, and I know Will would love to take her fishing."

"Oh, that's darling," Paul's date cooed. "Honey, isn't that darling?"

"Sure is," Paul agreed.

From the cheese counter, strains of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" drifted over. Bob was a surprisingly decent singer, especially with his daughter harmonizing with him.

"Oh, someone ask me to dance," Paul's date said. "I love this song so much!"

She turned to Hannibal with pleading eyes when Paul declined.

"I'm afraid I've already promised this one to my fiance," Hannibal said, bowing his head in apology.

"Whuh?" was all Will managed to say before Hannibal was tugging him across the store and onto the makeshift dance floor.

"Oh, oh no, I'll step on your feet," Will said as Hannibal pulled him into a slow, meandering... two-step? Was it a two-step? Will struggled to remember the string of PE classes in junior high when they'd been forced to take basic dance lessons. Nothing was coming to mind, possibly because his mind had short-circuited the moment he felt Hannibal's big, broad hand close on his hip.

"Don't worry, we won't do anything complex," Hannibal said, and he looked like he was having a ridiculously good time. 

Had his eyes always been so twinkly? Why was Will just now noticing these things? Ah, yes, he didn't like eye contact much. That's right. And yet, those eyes were all he could focus on at the moment. Those twinkly... twinkly eyes. How much bourbon was in those nogs, exactly?

"I usually handle my liquor pretty well," he heard himself saying as if from miles away. "But I think I'm _so drunk_ right now."

"Did you eat today?" Hannibal asked.

"Now that you mention it, I was too nervous about this party to eat," Will said. "Why was I so nervous? This isn't bad."

"No, it's not," Hannibal agreed. "Not bad at all."

Will became aware that people were cheering and he had no clue why. When Hannibal glanced up to the ceiling, Will followed suit. Apparently, they had managed to dance themselves under a swag of mistletoe and people were egging them on for a kiss.

"Eh, what the hell," Will said with a shrug.Hannibal spun him once and dipped him with a flourish, then pressed their cheeks together. To anyone watching, it would have looked like a real kiss. As Hannibal pulled him back upright, Will caught Carrie giving him two thumbs up and a wink.

"Oh," Will said, glancing down at the place where his and Hannibal's bodies met. "Your sweater lights...they came on!"

 

  


 

Hannibal looked down, as well, noting the colors had changed from red to green. "Well," he said. "It appears we managed to push that button, together."

  

* * *

 

"I suppose it's even better I drove us," Hannibal said as he helped Will out of the car. "You're in no condition to have made it home on your own." Will leaned into his shoulder, heavy and warm, and smelling strongly of bourbon and nutmeg.

The dogs had started barking already, and increased their enthusiasm as their master shuffled up the steps towards the door.

"You were great at the party," Will said, still leaning into him, but pulling back just slightly to look up at him. His cheeks were ruddy as a Botticelli cherub's. It took some self control not to reach up and touch them. Will was going on: "I mean, all that stuff you said... you made us totally sound like a couple for real."

"Everything I said was true," Hannibal said. "You told me to be myself, and I was."

Will blinked slowly, mouth falling open.

"Well, perhaps there were very slight exaggerations," Hannibal admitted to bridge the sudden silence. "We're not officially adopting Abigail, after all."

"But the rest?" Will prodded.

Hannibal used his own keys to open the door, letting the boisterous dogs out. After they had sniffed and licked the humans, they bounded off into the snow and Hannibal was forced to return to the conversation at hand.

"The rest was true," he said. "Utterly."

Will seemed to think about that for a long time. For a while, Hannibal had thought he was drifting off, as evidenced by the way Will's eyelids settled closed.

Then, with a start, Will announced rather loudly: "I wouldn't have minded a real kiss instead of that fake one!"

Half the dogs stopped their evening duties to focus on their master from across the yard, curious at the outburst.

"In fact, you could kiss me now," Will said, tilting his chin up. He squeezed his eyes shut and puckered his lips like a teenager after his first date.

Hannibal let himself touch Will's jaw with a gloved finger, and no more. It would be easy, so easy, to just bow his head and brush those endearingly asymmetrical lips with his own. Instead, with a heavy sigh, he said, "If you remember any of this later, ask me again when you're sober and I'll gladly oblige."

"Pfft," Will said, pushing himself away. "Party pooper."

With that, Will stumbled backward over the threshold and whistled for his pack to join him.

"Goodnight, Will," Hannibal called after him.

"Yeah, yeah," came the grumbled reply, and then once again, from inside the house, "party pooper."

Hannibal waited until the last of the dogs was inside, then locked the door, as Will had already fallen across his bed still fully clothed. He paused at his car, momentarily cursing himself for turning Will down. But there was always next Christmas, and the one after that, and many more after those, if he were feeling optimistic, and truly he _was_ , especially for someone wearing such an _amazingly_ ugly sweater.

 

\---End---

**Author's Note:**

> This started out a few months ago as me [thinking on Tumblr](http://avegetariancannibal.tumblr.com/post/138988896799/hannigram-season-1-au-that-almost-isnt-au) about a Season 1 Hannigram AU that almost wasn't an AU. I mean, the part where they pretend to be fiances is def not canon, but all the stuff they could say about their relationship without changing a detail and still managing to totally sound like a couple? That totes makes sense. And anyway, everyone's gotta write at least ONE fake fiance fic, right?


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